Living Simply

November 17, 2012 By

I thought yesterday was October first and here I am preparing for Thanksgiving.  Why do I feel like I’m living in a time capsule that moves forward at a gazillion miles an hour?

As a little kid, I felt time moved too slowly.  Adolescence was the worst.  All I wanted was to be grown up and out from under the boundaries my parents set up for me.  During my twenties it sped up a bit. But being the caretaker of two little people, I still felt pretty limited.  Once those little ones were in school, the pace picked up from that of a turtle to that of a hungry dog anxious to be fed.  Once Mark and Lisa left home there was no stopping the hours from rushing to the finish line.  These days I get up in the morning and before I know it, it’s time for bed.  There are never enough hours in the day to do all of the things I put on my list of daily intentions. It can be so very frustrating.

I want things to slow down a bit now, thank you very much and I don’t think I’m alone in feeling this way. Most everyone I know complains about there being too much to do in too little time.  While we whine about our computers being too slow, we wish for the time to take a nap, soak in a bathtub filled with bubbles, or simply lounge about, dreaming of what a real vacation might look like.

Today is my seventieth birthday.  It’s once more time for me to stop my craziness and think about what is most important to me.  Is it more pressing for me to spend my time and money accumulating more stuff and being seen at every community event? Or is it more important for me to slow down and smell the proverbial roses?  What about seeing friends for lunch or going for long walks in the woods or through streets crunchy with falling leaves? Do I need to go see every movie that is now playing at Charlottesville’s new fourteen screen movie complex this very week? Or might I stay at home, sitting in front of a fire, with a good book, snuggled up with my dog, Sam?

This past year, I seem to have opted for the long walks and the good book with sweet Sam at my feet.  And even though my pace is slowing naturally as I age, it’s not all that easy to stay in the slow lane.  If I’m running late for an appointment, I find myself swearing at the numerous red lights and the heavy traffic that makes me even later.  And if it’s too cold or too hot, I can easily find myself wishing that the season would move on and bring me more comfortable weather.  What I too often forget about, is living every moment as it arises.

I’m not one who is fond of this holiday time of year.  I do love being with my family and eating turkey with dressing and pumpkin pie, but I’m not happy with the consumerism that I sometimes feel wants to devour me.  Now Black Friday is set to begin Thanksgiving evening.  Will we now call it Black Thanksgiving? Those who have jobs in the big box stores that are so popular because of their low prices, are in many cases forced to work on one of the few days of the year that they have off to spend with their families.  A recent news report pointed out two women somewhere in California, already on line at their local Best Buy, so that they won’t miss out on the latest whatevers that they absolutely must have.

I could easily sit here and wish this season away, preferring it were March, and being able to work in my garden.  But where would that get me?  I’d have to skip tonight’s dinner at one of my favorite dining spots, and then hearing our local  symphony orchestra perform Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 in A major Opus 92.  I’d miss being with my grandkid’s on Christmas day and most likely miss out on a snow storm or two that could transform my world into a fantasy land dressed in white.

It’s true that there may also be some very painful and unhappy days that I might be able to avoid by wishing life away. But if I didn’t enter the darkness from time to time, I’d never appreciate the light and the joy that surrounds me.

Today, I’m reminding myself once again, that rushing my way through life is not worth it. I don’t want to miss the smell of wood smoke in the air, and early daffodils poking their frilly, yellow heads out in February.  Once Thanksgiving is over, I’ll sit down and listen to Handel’s Messiah, while sipping a steamy mug of mulled cider as I write down all of the things I am grateful for this past year.

I’m convinced that I need to live more simply, being present in every moment.  Time here is too short. It should not take cancer or any other dreaded disease to slow me down, forcing me to finally begin appreciating the littlest things that I too frequently overlook each and every day.

Happy Thanksgiving Y’ All!
I hope you enjoy every precious moment.

Filed Under: Animals I Love, Childhood, Dreams, family, Gratefulness, Matters of the Spirit, Music, Navigating Through Life, Thanksgiving, The Garden, The Seasons Tagged With: , , , , ,

Parenting And The Unfairness Of Life

November 10, 2012 By

Amaryllis, © Joan Z. Rough

I will be turning seventy years old next week, and one of the lessons I’ve learned over the years is that being a parent doesn’t end when your child walks out the door, goes to college, and then gets married.  Being a parent is a life long proposition.

There is a huge amount of letting go one must suffer through in order to live life with ease, once the kids are gone. But no matter how much I let go, I find that I’m still alert to the tone of their voices and body language. And by indelicately stepping over the line from time to time, I disturb their peace, as well as my own.  But like a little kid touching a hot stove, I tend to learn what not to do by doing it anyway.  At last, I’ve figured out that they are learning about life the same way that I am. If someone tells us the stove is hot and we touch it anyway, we get burned and learn to trust the signals we are given.

As parents, Bill and I have been very lucky. Our two grown children, have had happy and meaningful lives. When there are narrow roads filled of boulders to navigate through, I worry a bit as any mother would.  But I’ve learned that being mindful of boundaries, both theirs and mine is of the utmost importance. During difficult times, I might think about them more often than I usually do, and send positive energy their way. But other than that I usually feel my job is done and know they are perfectly capable of getting through their troubles. But there are times when their pain is so great, that I want to sweep them up into my arms, rock them like I did all those years ago, when they fell and got hurt. I want to tell them that everything will be alright, that the pain will soon be gone and the sun will shine once again.

I’m in one of those spots right now.  It seems that life can take turns that are not fair.  Hurricane/Super Storm Sandy, was not fair to all of those who lost their lives, their homes and are living without electricity as winter comes on.  I can send a donation to the Red Cross and make myself feel better, but it’s still heartbreaking and unfair.  So much of life is like that and I often join the ranks of those yelling and screaming about it. But it’s one thing if it’s a political issue. When it comes to the weather or illness, no amount of breast beating, yelling, threatening or screaming can stop what we deem to be not right.

About a month ago, Mark’s adopted daughter, Casey, was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer.  She has had a double mastectomy and is preparing for some eight months of chemo and radiation.  She is twenty-four years old and none of us, including her Doctors know what will happen.  Every day, I hear myself repeating that it isn’t fair. That one so young can be struck by such a horrible disease, makes my heart break.  But it also aches for my son, her mom, Jane, her sister, Trish, her brother, Dustin, her boyfriend, Ian, and all of the people who care so deeply for this beautiful young woman. Everyone who knows her is grieving and we all pray that she will be well again and be able to live out a long and happy life.

For most of my life, I have wanted to save the world from suffering. I find it almost unbearable to see those I love in pain.  Once in a while I’ve been able to bring a smile to a sad face, but it lasts only a few moments. Right now I feel paralyzed. I wish I could do something to help all of those I love ease their way through this life as it is. I wish I could remove cancer from the land and bring an end to all pain.

As a mother and a parent, I grieve for my son, a parent himself, going through what could turn out to be the unspeakable pain that no parent should ever have to go through … The fear of losing a child.

Healing thoughts and prayers are greatly appreciated for Casey, as well as for all those who also have had their lives turned upside down by cancer.

May peace be with all of us through difficult times.

Filed Under: Childhood, family, Fear, Life, love, Navigating Through Life Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Letting Go

September 29, 2012 By

Perogies while being prepared.

Things Change.  One minute the sun is shining, the next it’s raining cats and dogs. I might be really sad at noon, and then find myself happy and laughing hysterically by four o’clock. When I have a day that makes me want to shoot myself in the head, the next day I may be filled with uncontrollable excitement to get on with my life. None of us ever knows from one minute to the next what is before us.  The past is done, never to return.  The future hasn’t happened yet, so how can we truly plan what we will be doing next? Changes are constant. They can be large or small, altering our lives in many ways. Some are good. Others bring on excruciating pain and suffering.  The one thing that never changes, is the need to let go of whatever we are clinging to, so that we can ride the waves toward new beginnings.  It can be hard. So very hard.  Especially when we are dealing with major loss.

Right now, there are lots of changes happening in my life, and lots of things I need to let go of.  Though there is nothing terribly earth shattering, they’re bothersome and sometimes sad.  For one thing, I’m aging.  Nothing works quite the way it used to.  I can no longer wiggle my ears or do fifty jumping jacks all in a row. It’s to be expected, of course, but I’m loving my later years for my ability to be more honest and to say what I need to say without embarrassing myself.

Just a little over three weeks ago, I decided to go gluten-free.  I’m feeling absolutely terrific.  All of my aches and pains are gone, food cravings are a thing of the past, my energy levels have risen to new heights, and I’m slowly losing weight … about a pound a week.  It’s miraculous and I love every minute of discovering the new me.  What’s to complain about?

I think of Christmas and the traditional foods we’ve always enjoyed in the past.  Like the perogies, forever my favorite holiday food, since the beginning of time.  Little packages of pasta, filled with a variety of fillings, like sauerkraut, mushrooms, or potato and cheese, are to die for.  We smother them with caramelized onions and sour cream, and spend our time eating them in food heaven.  But no more.  I do take solace in their sweet memory and know I’ll probably come up with something that tastes similar but doesn’t use pasta.

Seven weeks ago we adopted an adorable little terrier.  As of three days ago, he is no longer with us. We had to return him to the shelter because he began beating up our old guy, Sam.  He also turned out to be destructive, shredding a new chair cover, chewing on the woodwork, and then a table.  Sam was not hurt too badly the last time Terry started a fight, but everyone, including the trainer, the vet and Terry’s former foster mom, agreed that things could take a very bad turn if we didn’t do something. The amount of training he would need was something we couldn’t commit to. And my first concern was for Sam, who was already coming to us for protection, whenever Terry would get too rowdy.

We’re feeling pretty glum at this point and despite his problems, all of us, including Sam, miss the dickens out of him.  He was a very sweet little guy most of the time.  I’d recently discovered his love for water, when visiting with a neighbor. He’d stepped down onto the first step in her pool and spent the next ten minutes just sitting in the shallow water with a huge grin on his face. I promised myself I’d get him a small toddler’s pool for next summer, but then the last and most injurious fight took place.  I spent the last day he was with us in tears, hugging him and wishing for a fairytale ending, in which he suddenly sees the error of his ways and straightens himself out.  But the true fairytale will happen when he finds a new forever home, where he is the one and only kingpin, preferably with a few kids, whom he adores, and a large space to run in.  There has already been some interest in him from others looking for a small dog and I’m feeling it could happen very soon.

My Mom

My biggest letting go for now, will happen in a week or so when I take my mother’s ashes up to Long Island, to scatter them in the places where she was truly happy.  Some of her ashes are already buried next to my Dad in New Hampshire and some are under the Smoke Tree, we planted in her honor, here in Virginia.  She was not all that happy in New England, and after we, as a family, moved to Vermont, she went back to the Island often, spending her time staying in a small cottage, and visiting friends and relatives.  When she died in 2007, I was not able to plan a funeral or a memorial for her.  I was spent from years of being her caretaker.  I was also very angry with her, unable to find a middle ground where I would be ready and able to let her go with forgiveness and love.  Though it’s taken a while, I’m ready now.  I do miss her terribly and often find myself wanting to call her, to let her in on any exciting news I have to share.  It’s funny, but I do think she knows it all anyway and is up there, sitting on the edge of a cloud, still trying to run the show.

I don’t know how I’ll feel once I finally commit Mom to the earth and sea. Lately, I’ve felt a few second thoughts creep in, suggesting that maybe it would be better if she stayed in the closet where I’ve kept her all this time. But the thing is, I know I need to set her free, so that I can move on with my own life.  Mom’s hold on me began to die this past June, when we had to put her cat, Cleo, to sleep. That calico kitty was my last living connection to Mom. With her, I learned to forgive Mom and myself for the pain we caused each other.  Now it’s time to set myself free as well. I wish to go on living a glorious, rich life, and to enjoy every moment as they arise, without regret of any kind.

 What kinds of changes are going on in your life?  What do you need to let go of?

Filed Under: Animals I Love, family, Gratefulness, Healthy Living, Navigating Through Life Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Home

September 15, 2012 By

My home sweet home

“Home is not where you have to go but where you want to go; nor is it a place where you are sullenly admitted, but rather where you are welcomed – by the people, the walls, the tiles on the floor, the followers beside the door, the play of life, the very grass.” – Scott Russell Sanders  

Last Sunday, Bill and I returned from a trip to Niagara-On-The-Lake, in Ontario, Canada.  It is one of my favorite places to sneak away to.  It’s a beautiful small town on the western shore of Lake Ontario, which  hosts the George Bernard Shaw Festival every summer, and is also home to over twenty vineyards, where you can spend your days tasting superb wines.  This was only our second trip to this outstanding community, but it’s beginning to look like it could become an annual late summer destination for us.

We spent four nights at Brockamour Manor, a sweet B & B, where I’ve always felt pampered.  Having launched my gluten-free diet on the day we arrived, Colleen and Rick, the owners, quickly made adjustments to the breakfast menu for me, providing me with gluten-free toast to go with their delicious eggy dishes. On the morning they served pancakes, Colleen made gluten-free ones for me, topped with crushed strawberries and some maple syrup.  This is the only B & B to my knowledge where you’ll get dessert for breakfast.  My favorite is a rainbow sorbet pie, with a nut crust. I plan on making  that one here at home next time we invite friends for dinner. Fresh local peaches still in season, were served other mornings in a variety of ways.

We saw four shows at the Shaw Festival. My favorite was, A Man and Some Women, by British Playwright, Githa Sowerly.  We also saw the musical, Ragtime (fantastically great), Shaw’s own, Misalliance, and Ibsen’s, Hedda Gabler.  You can read Bill’s reviews on his blog,  View in the Dark.  We also had time and space to work a bit on our own writing projects, sip wine, take naps, go on morning walks, and enjoy well prepared food.  No stress. Just relaxation. My favorite kind of vacation.  I felt very much at home there.

What is home exactly?  For me, home has always been the place where I eat my meals, sleep, work, and share space with the people I love. Having lived in at least eight different homes by the time I was thirteen, home was where ever we happened to be. I found moving extremely difficult. It meant a new school and making new friends.  It meant I had to figure out where I was and how to maneuver in a whole new world.

My favorite home of all time, is the one I am in right now, in Charlottesville, Virginia.  I’ve lived in this area since 1985, but have lived in three different houses.  Each one was always perfect for us at the time, but as the years passed our needs changed. This last move, two years ago, was to downsize and place us in town within closer proximity to entertainment, healthcare facilities, and community.

I guess I’ve never stopped moving. As adults, we’ve moved as a way to shake things up in our lives as we’ve searched for our own end of the rainbow. Perhaps when you continuously move from location to location, it simply becomes what you do. It becomes your habit.

One of the things on my life long wish list has been to “feel at home” in the world, no matter where I find myself. But I’m beginning to understand and accept that it’s a wish that I will never fulfill.  I visit New York City, several times a year, but I rarely, if ever feel at home there.  For one thing, there are too many people to share a relatively small amount of space with. It is difficult for me sharing the sidewalks on Fifth Avenue around four o’clock in the afternoon when everyone in the city is on their way home from work. There is also too much noise, and the energy level in the city is way over the top. I can comfortably stay four nights without losing myself, but after that, my nerves begin to rattle and I get anxious.  Being an introvert, arriving home to the peace and quiet of this town in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, is my reward for stepping out into the great big crazy world.

Big cities of any kind are not as inviting to me as places where I can connect to the natural rhythms of the earth.  I love being by the sea, watching and listening as the ocean pounds the shore.  The air smells and tastes salty. There are magnificent birds to watch as they make their living along the beach.  And walking barefoot in the sand is one of the most healing things I’ve ever experienced.  I almost always feel at home there.

Next month I will be taking my mother’s ashes, “home,” to Long Island. She was born there, and though she spent much of her youth in trauma ridden situations, it’s also where I believe she spent her happiest moments. Though as a family we moved from there to Vermont in 1960, she felt restless in New England and went back to the Island frequently to spend time with old friends and family.  When she moved here to Virginia after my father died, it was to be close to me and my family. She liked it here, but it wasn’t home for her.  Had she been healthier and younger, I know she would have moved back to Long Island in a heartbeat.

It will be a homecoming of sorts for me as well, as I was also born and raised on the Island. I’ve been back to visit once before and I love stopping to see the houses I once lived in and the schools I went to. But I love where I am right now and I consider this to be my home of choice.

What does home mean to you? Would you feel at home anywhere in the world? What do you love most about being home?

Filed Under: Childhood, family, Life, The Sea, Travels, Vermont Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,

Another New Year

September 1, 2012 By

Photo by Barbara Germershausen, August 29, 2012

It’s been busy around C’ville this past week.  While the public schools opened their doors over a week and a half ago, last weekend, brought the University students back to town. Traffic is crazy and from now on, Fridays and Saturdays will be party nights at the Fraternities and Sororities just a couple of blocks away. Fortunately, we rarely are bothered by them on our street.  This weekend is the first home football game of the year and everyone is in high spirits.  As I write this I can hear the UVA Marching Band practicing just over the rise.  I love it!

Labor Day has always been my own, personal New Year.  January first is great, but it doesn’t hold the same celebratory meaning in my book.  As a kid I loved school and when the end of August arrived, I couldn’t think of anything else. Mom always got me a new dress and shoes, a few pencils, a notebook or two, and maybe a new lunchbox. I loved learning, except for math, which always made me “knots-in-my-stomach anxious.”

Even though I’m not going back to any school at the moment, I did get to soak in the excitement of just that earlier in August when I took my grandkids shopping for their back to school needs.  Zoe, especially was excited, just as I had been at her age.  But things have changed a lot since I was in grade school, when all I had to bring on the first day of school were my pencils, a notebook, and my lunch.

Zoe and Noah’s school provided them each with a list of necessities in July. It included rolls of paper towels, boxes if tissues for runny noses, tape, crayons, colored markers, pens, pencils, lots of notebooks, graph paper, loose leaf paper, pens, pencils, scissors, index cards, poster board, rulers, compasses, and I’ve forgotten what else.  I was in shock when I saw the list and I hope all that stuff is supposed to last the whole year. I had no idea what going back to school meant in terms of the dollars these days. Wow!

It’s also a new year politically speaking.  Political ads have gotten nastier and more money is being spent by both parties than ever before.  Even though I’m trying to stay away from getting involved, I caught myself yelling at the television the other night.  The dogs looked like they wanted to hide and Bill had a big smirk on his face.  I got caught!  This woman who pretends not to care, who smiles her way through the worst of it, got hooked. I don’t like it.

There is a wonderful story that most of you have probably heard, about a boy who tells his grandfather that there is a big fight going on inside of him and he doesn’t know what to do.  The grandfather explains that there are two wolves living inside of him. One wolf is hateful, and can cause wars inside of every person who walks the earth.  The other wolf is filled with love, peace, and tranquility.  When the boy asked which wolf would win the battle raging in his heart, his grandfather answered, “The one you feed.”

I choose to feed the wolf of love.  My ranting and raving at the television gets me nowhere and sends a lot of negative energy out into the world, which gathers with all the other negative energy, causing hatred.  I’ve renewed my promise to stay above the fray by blacking out ad time on TV and carefully screening all phone calls, especially around dinner time. I like to enjoy my food and digest it in peace. And, I’ve blocked someone on my Facebook page who is voting for the same candidate that I am, but who spews out hateful messages using extremely colorful language. I was planning on unblocking her once the election is over, but I’m rethinking that.

When It’s possible, I will have civilized conversations about why I’m choosing to vote for my particular candidate, and if it isn’t possible I’ll simply let it go.  I’ll write letters that may help to change someone’s mind. And best of all when the day comes, I’ll go out and vote.

Photograph by Barbara Germershausen, August,2012.

This past Wednesday, President Obama, visited our fair city. Traffic was a nightmare and getting anywhere was impossible.  I don’t do well in crowds, so I chose to stay home and watch on television as he spoke.  I was touched by many of the things he told his live audience of over six thousand people, especially the numerous UVA students who were there.  He told them that this election and all of those to come, should be more important to them than anything  else.  These young people are the future of this country and many of them don’t like what they see ahead. When a small group of protestors marched by and the audience began to chant, “Four More Years,” the President stopped them saying, “Don’t chant! Just go out and vote!”

So now you know who I’m voting for. As if you couldn’t tell.  It’s okay if you don’t like my choice but I’ll be delighted if you do.  We all have the right to vote and to choose the candidate we like the most.  I’d like to see all of us stop fighting and spreading hatred.  That goes for both parties.  Please, let’s feed the wolf of love.

My friend and yoga teacher, Barb Germershausen took theses photos.  She’s a volunteer at Obama’s campaign office here.  She got to stand in the front row, smack dab in front of him, and after he spoke, she got to shake his hand!

Photograph by Barbara Germershausen, August 29, 2012

Filed Under: Life, love, Mental Health, Navigating Through Life, War Tagged With: , , , , ,
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